Book of the Rift (Full Version)

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Eukara Vox -> Book of the Rift (6/30/2011 9:47:25)

Eukara sighed heavily. They all needed a vacation—a serious vacation. Yet, it was impossible for them to all take one together. Someone had to be in the library, especially her. It’s not that she didn’t trust them to run it, she trusted them implicitly. But none of them had her abilities and power, in case something went wrong or someone on the outside needed her services.

And... there was the loss of Fleur. That was a hard hit, if any. Eukara hated losing her companions, even if it was for a good reason, but the library had turnover. Frequently another life outside these wall ripped them from her arms. Rarely did any of the library’s occupants see one who has been taken once they were gone. You’d think we’d be used to it by now.

Her fingers trailed across the spines of the books neatly brought forward and aligned with the shelf’s edge. The adventure section was one that she frequented. These books were the most used and abused, checked out and rarely returned on time. Each book was caressed lovingly by the Librarian, a word or two whispered in an effort to bolster the strength of the binding or the paling of the yellowing pages.

Her hand stopped on a book she hadn’t seen in a long time. So, you finally made it home, did you? I was very perturbed that you were checked out before I had a chance to read you. Rarely does a book come to this library, only to be taken out before I or any of my predecessors have read it. She began to pull it out, when Master Samak appeared beside her and cleared his throat quietly.

“Yes, Master Samak?” Eukara smiled.

“Madam Librarian, a new arrival awaits you.” The one in green bowed and awaited instruction.

“A new arrival?” Eukara’s brow furrowed. “I am not expecting anyone. Did the arrival say anything?”

He nodded. “She said that she was the one sought after.”

“Very interesting. Escort her to this very place. We shall speak in the adventure section. Appropriate, no?” Eukara laughed to herself.

Master Samak allowed a small smile. “Very, Mistress Vox.” He spun on a heel and vanished.

“Sought after...” Eukara said to herself as she looked at the book she wanted to pull. Seems I have two interesting surprises today.

A minute later, Samak walked in with a young woman in tow. The young woman’s black hair stood out, but not as much as her eyes. It had been a long time since she had seen that colour in a person’s eyes. Eukara felt her throat tighten as she realised that this young woman resembled Fleur in many ways.

“Good day. I am Eukara Vox. I will have to admit to being surprised. I was not expecting anyone here. And, to be honest, no one comes here unless I have determined a need.” Eukara’s voice was soft; the uncanny resemblance to Fleur was bothering her.

The woman nodded her head in greeting and smiled. “My apologies then. If this is not a good time for you, I can come back when it is more convenient.”

“No, it’s fine. I am just, well, I didn’t seek anyone, yet you told Master Samak that you were sought after.” She leaned against the bookcase. “Unless...” Eukara’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me... did a person seek you out, or did you just know you were sought after?”

“I just…knew. I passed the portal and knew I was supposed to come here.”

A soft grumbling was heard coming from Eukara. “Portal!”

An area of the library wavered as the Portal slowly appeared. It pulsed, almost happily, as Eukara glared at it. “What is the meaning of this?” Silence followed, though it was obvious there wasn’t silence between the Portal and Eukara. Suddenly it disappeared.

“Seems that Portal thinks I need something I didn’t ask for.” Eukara looked at the young woman. “Not that you aren’t qualified, or at least I assume you are since Portal brought you here. But that blasted concoction of wild magic has a mind of its own and decided for me that I needed someone to fill Fleur’s void. Tell me about yourself.”

The young woman stared at the now vacant spot where Portal had rested. “That thing is alive?” she shook her head to clear it and glanced at Eukara. “I am Mritha Fallen.” She hesitated, uncertain of just what the woman wanted to know. “I am a DragonLord, one of many. Odgne and I have protected Lore for many years, though we have always read books and told stories when we could.” She glanced around sadly. “The crazy lizard would love this place.”

“A DragonLord! Oh happiness. Oh.... wait a minute...” She bit her lip in concentration. “Portal, you naughty thing... Mritha, you are either from the past or from an alternative Lore from the one I teach on. I wonder which it is...” Eukara looks at Mritha. “That is a mystery for another time. Do you have any idea where you are?”

She glanced around at the seemingly endless shelves and stack of books. “The biggest library known to Lore?” Curious, she picked up a red and gold volume and flipped through the pages.

“Actually, this library is rather... different. This library sits on the convergent points of all universes and all dimensional planes. This is where the literature of all peoples, of all places and times, have their resting place for eternity.” Eukara smiled proudly.

“Wow, I never knew such a place existed!” Mritha said, obviously impressed, then changed the subject. “You mentioned that Portal brought me here to fill a void... what exactly is needed for me to do?”

Eukara’s demeanor changed to something more solemn. “Recently, we lost one of our team. Her name is Fleur, but she was called away to fight something that only she could fight. So, we have a vacancy in our team. Those of us that are here work to keep the literature in top form, organise what is sent in, and occasionally travel when it is needed. Portal seems to think you have what it takes to be on this team.”

She chewed her lip as she thought, looking at the page but not reading what it said. She loved adventuring, but she also loved reading. And Eukara did say they could travel occasionally. Mritha placed the book back on the shelf and smiled. “When do I start?”

“You can start now if you like. Everyone has accommodations here in the library. You will find it is very large. Eventually you will meet the others. Master Samak you have already met. Xor Vralin is below in the Archives. He is VERY serious about what he does. Gianna Glow is a time fairy, but very busy. Shreder is our resident Raven of poetry and Kastio Lelit is my most treasured adventurer. He is the one who is frequently out and about gathering things for me. You will know him immediately. He is covered in jars. A couple of people around here call him Superjars.” She laughs. “And now you, a DragonLord of Lore.”

“Wow, that is quite a group. I can hardly wait to meet them!”

“Yes, I have an exceptional team. My family, if I am to be honest.” Eukara glanced around the library. “We watch out for each other, no matter what. I don’t think that will be an issue with you. And if your beloved Odgne is to accompany you, you will drop me a note with your specifications and needs and it will be done as soon as possible.”

Her face lit up like Christmas. “I will do that—Odgne will love it here! But first I would like to look around if that is okay with you.Tthis place is enormous!”

“Look around to your heart’s content. The library is your playground.” She nodded and looked to the book she was going to pull. “If you will excuse me, I have a date with a book that finally came back to our library.”

Mritha smiled at her new boss and began wandering through the library, drinking in the smell of old books and staring in wonder at the volumes, all waiting to be read and explored.

Oddly satisfied, Eukara pulled the book and headed for her quarters. It was time to read about the Rift. It had come highly recommended from Master Archanius.




Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of the Rift (6/30/2011 9:54:16)

The Book of the Rift

Prologue

What was it that caused him to make such a rash and dangerous act? One that has pulled our world to the brink of utter destruction? Maybe we will never know the real answer, but that has not stopped people from speculating about it.

Some have said that the constant rejections and disappointments in his life—every dream shattered, every goal unfulfilled—led him to this point, a situation with no good options and only the barest of emotions to guide him through. Who wouldn't break under these circumstances?

Others think that there was some external force guiding his actions, some oppressive or dangerous entity that took control in a moment of vulnerability and guided him down the path he took. Some even think it was this Vishjal who was the culprit, but most think that is a made-up person used to find some meaning behind the tragedies that happened over these last few years.

"People just need someone or something to blame for this," I hear them say. "Someone to make what they are going through mean something."

But, in the end, we brought this upon ourselves. We are to blame for the bed we have made. All the signs were there but we ignored them, wanting instead just to enjoy what we had made, the peace we had forged.

Peace never lasts.


He closed the book with a heavy sigh, uttering both from the creaking binding and from his own tired throat. How long had it been since that fateful day: the opening of the rift and the beginnings of their world's death pangs? And how long would it be before someone closed the rift, sealed it shut, and banished the many creatures who had passed through its shining portal back to the aether from whence they came?

Another painful sigh issued forth, candlelight flickering as his heavy breath threatened to extinguish the flame. He had hidden himself away tonight, hoping beyond hope that he could, for just a single night, forget all the horrors and atrocities he had seen over these past four years. He dared not close his eyes, for fear that behind his tired lids would be displayed all the blood which had been shed. Blood which spilled out onto the ground, poisoning their world and drawing more dangerous creatures into the realm.

ArchRector Shal Vindari was alone tonight. He preferred it that way; his Lord was all he needed.Oothers simply slowed him down and put him in danger. Over these past years he had found that survival, for those who hadn’t illegally been trained in the old ways, was a matter of quickness of mind and fleetness of foot. He couldn't remember a time since he was a child that he had done as much running as he had these last three years.

Three years? It seemed like a lifetime ago, with Shal running a rather large monastery, preaching to his congregation that the Royal Army would surely close the rift and defeat the monsters that had only begun to show up through its open portcullis, even though he knew there was really no chance they could. Only a few days after his fateful sermons the army lay in shambles and a host of creatures, large and small, ferocious and destructive to their cores, marched on his monastery, utterly destroying it and leaving it strewn with the dead. The ArchRector had barely escaped with his life, battered and bloodied, with the lives of his many parishioners weighing heavily on his shoulders.

But he had survived.

And he searched.

Someone would be able to close the rift and end this nightmare. He just needed to find them. And give them the key: the seal to this rift.



The mercenary glanced at her employer and nodded an acknowledgement, even though her back was turned. Better to be safe than dead. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her face and swept out of the room.

[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/Lavernacomestotown.jpg[/image]

Several days later the mercenary came to the edge of the hovel and reined in her bay horse. “Syntha.” She murmured as she gazed upon the sleeping town. Glancing at the sky she saw she had several hours before the sun rose. Tying her horse to a tree well off the trail, she quietly entered the sleeping town on foot. Hood pulled low, she slipped through an open window and spied the owner of the house sleeping in a small cot. Her boots barely made a sound as she made her way around behind his head. She quickly put a hand over his mouth and pointed a pistol at his head.

He jerked awake, but Laverna pressed the cold steel into his skin and hissed in his ear. “You speak any word above a whisper and I put a bullet in your head. Got it?” The man whimpered. “Got it!?” He frantically nodded and she removed her hand from his mouth. “The mage—where is he!”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” he stammered.

“Do not lie to me! I know he lives near this town. Tell me where!” She twisted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back until he was looking her in the eye.

Seeing she meant business, he licked his lips. “He lives in a small cabin two miles southwest of here. Follow the river and it will lead you right to him, now please don’t kill me!”

She smiled coldly. “Kill you? Only if I find out you are lying.” She pistol-whipped him in the temple and stood, satisfied he wouldn’t wake for several hours. Glancing up at a wooden shelf, she reached over and picked up a glass jar, about a pint in size. Emptying its contents, she wrapped it in a small blanket and left the building the way she had come, then retrieved her horse and followed the man’s directions.

Before long she was creeping up on the roof of the cabin, the moon and stars giving her all the light she needed. She tossed the blanket over the chimney and got down on her belly, gun at the ready. Immediately, the house began to fill with smoke and Laverna didn’t have to wait long; the mage and his charge soon came running from the smoke-filled house, coughing and blinded. She smiled and took aim. A twitch of her finger and a small metal bullet raced from the barrel and missed the mage’s head by mere inches, instead shattering against a blue arcane shield.

[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/Battlewiththemage.jpg[/image]

Having failed her attempt at an easy kill and lost the element of surprise, she leapt to her feet and drew three arrows, firing them in quick succession. But each was destroyed by the mage before ever leaving a mark. Laverna dove from the roof and ducked behind a tree as fireballs were thrown her way. Pressing her back to the tree she reloaded her pistol and hooked it over her belt. Hearing whispering, Laverna peeked out from behind the tree, only to dive for cover to avoid an icy blast.

The smell of the burning cabin was thick in the air as Laverna took a deep breath and stepped out from the tree, firing arrows as she dodged spells and moved closer. Pushing his apprentice behind him, the mage summoned a spell of light and threw it at his attacker, effectively blinding her. Laverna screamed and dropped her bow, rubbing her eyes as she stumbled back. That spell would have blinded a normal human, but Laverna’s milky red eyes were weak to strong light due to her albinism and so she found the spell doubly painful.

When finally able to see again, she found herself surrounded; the mage in front, his apprentice behind her. She quickly glanced around for something to use and, looking above the mage, she saw what she needed.

“Surrender your weapons!” he ordered.

She shrugged. “As you wish.” Slowly she pulled one pistol from her belt and dropped it in the dirt.

“Now the other one.” He tracked her movements with his eyes as she pulled the second pistol free and held it loosely in her hand. “On the ground with the other one,” the mage said, nodding to her pistol.

She glanced down at her pistol and smiled. Her knees buckled and she fired above the mage’s head. Laverna dropped to the ground and rolled, picking up her fallen pistol as a fireball hit the dust where she was standing seconds before, and an angry hornet’s nest dropped to the ground at the mage’s feet. She stood only to drop to the ground again as a second fireball sailed over her head. Someone cried out behind her and the apprentice, still a child, paled. Laverna laughed as she child raced forward. “MASTER!” she cried out.

Laverna gabbed the girl by her long brown hair and slipped her sword to her throat as she tried to run past, a vain effort to help her master who had dealt with the angry insects only to be hit by friendly fire. Laverna cowered behind her human shield and shouted, “Throw me your staff!”

“She is just a child. Leave her out of this!”

“Throw me the staff or she dies!”

The mage hesitated, then tossed her the long wooden staff. Laverna smiled, for without the staff to channel his magic the mage was powerless. “Please, let her go,” he begged.
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/Shotanddeceit.jpg[/image]
“Very well,” the mercenary said.


With one quick motion, she dropped her sword and pushed the girl toward him. The mage caught her, then a loud shot rang out and he dropped to the ground, a bleeding hole between his eyes. His apprentice screamed and looked at the mercenary in time to see her hook a smoking pistol onto her belt. The child turned and fled into the dark woods as Laverna retreated to where her horse waited. The child is not important. She will not get far on foot, Laverna thought as she pulled the glass jar from her saddlebags and approached the body.

The girl ran through the forest, branches and brambles scratching her face and hands, though she did not feel them in her panic. Her sides ached and she longed to stop and rest, but at the sound of distant hoofbeats she pressed on. The town was in sight. “Help! Someone please help!” she shouted. The hoofbeats were closer. She glanced behind and saw a red horse with a black hooded rider racing after her.

The child ran toward the town but a pale hand grabbed her hair and threw her over the saddle, kicking and screaming. Laverna slipped a bag over the child’s head and kicked her horse. The screams were muffled, but the sooner she left this place the better.

The next night found Laverna resting against a tree, the child tied to a tree across from her. The girl tested her bonds, but they refused to give. Trying another approach, she spoke to her captor. “Where are you taking me?”

Laverna didn’t open her eyes. “My boss wants to… speak with you.”

The girl shuddered but pressed on. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I am paid to.”

“You are only in it for the money?”

“Bull’s-eye.”

The girl thought. “What would happen if someone paid you more?”

“I would get a new boss.”

“I will pay you sixty-two gold to set me free,” the girl said with a confident smile.

Laverna opened her eyes and looked at the young apprentice. “Seriously? Sixty-two gold?” The girl nodded. Laverna burst out laughing. “Do you honestly think I would work for so little?”

“But… it is all I have…” the girl said softly.

Still laughing, Laverna stood. “Tough luck, kid.” She moved towards the small tree and drew her sword.

The girl looked up with wide eyes and stared at the sword. “Please don’t! You don’t even know my name!”

“Can’t see how it matters.” She brought her sword down as the girl cowered and screamed. The ropes fell away and Laverna grabbed the girl’s arm and dragged her to her feet.

The girl whimpered and allowed herself to be led to the bay horse. “Who is your boss?”

“Herythi.”

The girl stopped and Laverna glanced back. Her face was deathly pale. “No… oh, please no! You have to let me go! She will kill me!”

“Does it look like I care?”

“NO!” the girl screamed and tried to break free.

“Oh, for the love of—” Laverna was cut off as the girl kicked her horse. It reared and pawed at the air, the saddlebags that had not yet been buckled spilled out their contents. Including a glass jar. “NO!” Laverna cried out and dove for the jar, the girl forgotten. She broke free and ran as the mercenary barely caught the jar before it could shatter on the ground and spill its precious red liquid. She carefully set the jar down and glared at the fleeing figure.

“You almost ruined everything!” she hissed as she pulled an arrow from her quiver. Taking aim, she loosed the arrow and had the satisfaction of watching her charge fall to the ground screaming in agony. Laverna readjusted the saddlebags, taking extra care with the jar, then moved toward the still screaming child. She pulled the arrow free and bandaged her leg so she wouldn’t bleed out and die. Herythi was very specific: the girl must be alive. Laverna dared not think of what would happen if she returned with a lifeless body.

Gagging her to muffle the screams, Laverna carried the girl to her horse and slung her over the saddle. Climbing up herself, they continued on.

Just as the sun was rising Laverna half-dragged, half-carried the child with one hand, the glass jar resting in her other. Her hood had fallen back but her arms were full and unable to raise it again, her white hair now lightly brushing her shoulders. She glared at the rising sun before turning her back on it and entering the darkness of the castle in search of Herythi. “She had better have my gold ready.” Laverna muttered.



[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/Herythisfury.jpg[/image]

"You fools! What do you mean you couldn't find it? I sent you to a very specific place, with a very specific job to perform and you screwed up?" Herythi raged as she paced around the room. "Did I not emphasize to you the severe importance of this being done right and on time?"

The two creatures bowed low, shivering before Herythi. Their reptilian forms, dulled by the darkness of the room, shied away from the angry screams. The smaller one fell to its knees, tears welling up in its eyes. The larger reached out to touch the other.

Off to the side, a shadowy figure leaned arrogantly against a pillar, awaiting her own opportunity to listen to Herythi berate her for some real or imagined sleight. She watched on with bemusement at her progenitor’s bloodthirsty mien, awaiting the moment she knew was sure to come.

"Don't you DARE! Neither of you deserve any amount of comfort. You knew the deal, you pathetic worms. You knew the cost. And you still failed!" Herythi's eyes flashed an angry grey.

The larger shuddered at its master's railing. Its small, thin voice broke the silence. "Master, let us—"

"SILENCE!" An explosion echoed through the entire estate. "There is no excuse worthy enough to clear your offense from my mind. Bring them in!" The woman whirled violently towards the door, pointing malevolently.

The smaller slave sobbed, then screamed as two small forms were dragged into the room by very large beastly guards. They were thrown at Herythi's feet, where the woman kicked one into line. "I needed that remnant. I needed the ore. I gave them to you; it should have been easy!" Her voice climbed in volume and rage. "You said you could do it, that nothing was too hard. Yet, here you are, empty-handed. I do not tolerate failure!"

The cloaked figure watched the exchange with mild amusement, then grew bored. She pulled one of the two flintlock pistols from her belt and inspected it, her pale hands dancing over the intricate designs. The corner of her black cloak was used to wipe away a speck of dirt until the silver shone like a mirror once more. The figure glanced back at the cowering failures as their employer continued to rage.

Herythi glared into the creatures as she growled a command. The air swirled and heated almost unbearably until a thin, yet elegant dagger appeared in her hand. "Failure. Is. Not. An. Option." She knelt and slit the throats of each of the smaller creatures in front of the reptilian slaves. "Take them to the east wing and make sure the others can hear them scream."

The guards growled and yanked the pair up violently. The smaller one wailed, reaching for the two smaller creatures dying as their blood poured over the marble floor.

Satisfied that the pistol could not get any cleaner, the cloaked figure holstered it and crossed her arms. She considered leaving, but a glance at the warm red liquid on the floor warned her of the folly of such actions. With a sigh, she leaned the back of her head against the cold pillar and closed her milky red eyes, awaiting orders.

"Bring in the next pair who swear they can retrieve that which I desire!" Herythi whirled around and looked at one of her prized possessions, her mercenary. “You had better hope that you succeeded Laverna. For if not, I will be most irate.”

Not waiting for Laverna to respond, Herythi stormed over to her desk and rifled through the contents in a drawer. The bustle of activity was more violent than usual, her displeasure very evident. Silently, the previous two guards entered, dragging two more reptilian forms behind them.

The mercenary returned a cold smile and disappeared behind the pillar, returning seconds later with a glass jar in one hand and a squirming and bleeding child over her shoulder. She passed the guards without a glance and dropped the child at Herythi’s feet. Holding out the jar, she said, “One innocent apprentice and a pint of her master’s blood, as ordered.” Now, where is my gold?

Looking sidelong at the guards, Herythi nodded at Laverna and smiled. “Now, on to business.”




superjars -> RE: Book of the Rift (7/13/2011 23:51:35)

What Pain May Come
written by Eukara Vox and Kellehendros
illustrated by lordkaho

The wind swept across the plains, bowing the tall grass, creating undulating waves from edge to edge. Creatures hid among the high stalks of greenery, and as each trough passed by them an ear or nose became visible for a short moment. In a matter of seconds they were hidden, never to be seen again.

A fleet of the fabled Slepna thundered in the distance, running at full speed. Their path took them in a strange zigzag fleeing pattern, which begged to ask why such an incredible creature would be fleeing anything. Their six legs and immense size made them prey to nothing, yet they ran with one common goal: to get away.

Stands of trees sparsely dotted the expanse of grasslands, giving the plains a false sense of shade and security. Beneath them lay animals that were desperate to get out of the heat. Great felines, canids, and a flock of large meaty birds made these oases home for now.

[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/VillageView.jpg[/image]

Amidst this beautiful picture of life a settlement was visible on the edge of the plains. Small- and medium-sized huts of hay, brick, and wood rose above short shorn grasses that marked the territory the inhabitants lived on. People walked, ran, and skipped from one place to another, daily business capturing their attention.

Moving past a large pride of felines who had claimed the western edge of the plains against the settlement, the blacksmith's quarter stood stark against the pale blue sky. The dark buildings, forever marred by the forge fires, were stoic. Smoke belched from two of the larger buildings, men and women hard at work within.

To the north, closest to the bordering forest were the homes of the hunters, gatherers, and farmers. Those houses were squat, yet highly decorated by the spoils of their daily toil. The eastern section of the settlement held the homes of the primary families, the big three—those who governed the people living under the flag of Slepna Tamers, the Legacy Clan.

But it was the southernmost part of the settlement that made the eye wander and stay, fixated. This was where the Slepna and their riders lived, breathed, and trained. The great beasts pranced, stomped, and ran in their enclosures, where they lived as kings. Not the free kings they once were, but kings nonetheless. This was the pride of the Clan.

Each section of the settlement seemed to burst with activity. The absence of children in the midday hours seemed to help create a quiet, yet very active, atmosphere. People bustled to and from buildings and arenas, hauling this or delivering that. Some were moving Slepna from the farms to the enclosures, while others were unloading immense wagons piled high with supplies the Clan could not themselves raise or craft. The Slepna that pulled these wagons stood tall and slightly aloof, as though they had better things to do.

A woman rejoiced when a large crate was delivered to her building, causing several people to stop and smile. The healer now had the medicines she needed to attend to a sickness that was traveling through the settlement’s children. The delivery seemed to change the atmosphere and several workers delivered supplies and equipment with a lighter step from then on.

Deliveries went on for hours, long enough to see the release of the children from a central building. Their whoops and laughter echoed over the grasslands, causing several canids to look towards the settlement. A few quiet chuffs later, they resumed their naps. The children wove in and out of the paths of the deliverers, until they all ended at the wooden fences bordering the Slepna enclosures. Suddenly, a child called out, pointing to the east. Several Slepna Riders rushed towards the settlement and the children celebrated, for between two of the great beasts hung the carcass of a very large monster.

As the group moved closer, however, the children quieted. What was once a triumphant entry became one of quiet stillness. The children moved away towards the barn where the newest born Slepna foals were housed. Several adults craned their necks to see what was wrong and fell silent themselves.

The Slepna were badly battered and it seemed that several were missing, along with riders. The leader reigned in his beast, heading straight for the Pavilion of Meetings outside the Eastern section of the settlement. He dismounted and handed the reigns over to a woman who awaited him and she hurried away with his beast.

The others followed suit, two men taking charge of the carcass. Within moments a heated discussion centered around several tired and worn riders flared up. Those sitting council could be seen trying to placate the leader. Though the content of the discussion was not discernible, the irate demeanor of the leader was very plain.

* * *

“A man dead, another wounded, and two Slepna lost! It was foolhardy, reckless, and stupid.”

Autfreg stood silently, his face an impassive mask as his commander, Markot, related the details to the Council on what had occurred. He supposed Markot had a right to be angry; he had, after all, disobeyed the man’s orders by going after the chimera. The group had been searching for the creature for several days, after the breeders reported that something had been at the herds, killing and dragging off several Slepna. Autfreg had seen his chance to kill the creature, and he took it. Markot had wanted to return to the village for more men.

It wasn’t that Autfreg considered Markot a coward. He respected the man, but thought him too cautious when it came to protecting the clan. Then again, everyone seemed too cautious these days. Horwell would have understood. He had done the right thing and people had died—that didn’t mean he was wrong, just that he hadn’t been good enough.

Horwell would have understood. He knew that risks had to be taken.

Autfreg’s eyes refocused after a moment, scanning laconically over the Council as Markot continued. If Markot had one failing, it was that he thought himself a great orator.

Beshera Ulen was furious. She always turned a strange shade of purple when suppressing anger, though she probably had the right to do so. Autfreg was causing trouble for her, the leader of the warriors. His actions—that is to say, his refusal to follow orders—reflected poorly on her and he knew it, just as he knew Markot was no coward.

Niscene Maakilvi, the leader of the smiths, looked pensive. He knew the gravity of the situation yet understood the boy. He too, at one time, had been in Autfreg’s place. Not that anyone would have believed him had he said anything. To those sitting with him, Niscene was just a laid-back ruler who gave too many chances. They had forgotten that, once upon a time, he had been the one standing before the Council more times than not.

His keen eyes swept over the boy. He smiled to himself, garnering disapproval for the other two. To hell with them. The boy led the charge to kill the stupid beast which that blasted Rift belched out into our world. It would have stolen and eaten three more by sunset tomorrow.

He tried to catch the boy’s eye, before looking on to Gellek. “I have but one question at the end, if it is not already covered by that time.” He crossed his arms and sat back, almost casually.

Gellek Zahmer was emotionless. Autfreg could tell nothing of the man’s mood by inspecting him, and that hardly boded well. The leader of the breeders and tamers, Gellek was ultimately the one who oversaw the maintenance and well-being of the Slepna herds. It seemed to Autfreg that the end result of this impromptu trial would be influenced greatly by what Gellek had to say. While the leader of the herds was no doubt grateful that the chimera was dead, the slaying of the monster had cost two Slepna. Autfreg was not callous enough to presume that Gellek weighed the lives of two Slepna over the life of the dead warrior, but the calculus of the matter was bleak. As much as Autfreg might have saved the herds from further predation at the fangs of the chimera, doing so had cost lives from that herd.
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/Councilmeetingchapter1.jpg[/image]

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Autfreg Skalen?”


Autfreg blinked, startled from his thoughts as Gellek addressed him directly, interrupting Markot. The commander grimaced, his expression matching the look on Beshera’s face. The interruption was surprising, and Markot had no doubt presumed he would be free to continue haranguing his subordinate before the Council for a few minutes more before he was forced to give over the floor to them for questioning.

Autfreg wished, for a moment, that Verhere was present. It was an errant, silly thought; the Slepna was being tended by the breeders, checked over for wounds and rubbed down to rest after the expedition. He wished too that he could have his lance or shield with him—not to use them, of course, but rather for the comfort they would provide. Standing before the Council weaponless and without his mount, Autfreg felt a chill of fear that he clamped down on hard. He would not look weak before them: what he had done was correct and necessary. “Council Leader Zahmer, I am aware that I acted against the orders of my commanding officer—”

“Again!” Markot interjected angrily, earning a swift glare from Beshera.

Gellek seemed unperturbed, merely glancing evenly at the man. “Commander Markot, the Council is grateful for your enthusiasm for the enforcement of order. However, at this time the floor has been given to Autfreg Skalen. Please remember the dignity required of a soldier and do not interrupt again.”

Markot subsided, though his eyes were mutinous and his face had gone a peculiar mottled shade of red. Gellek motioned for Autfreg to continue, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Beshera’s stare.

Niscene looked on, somewhat impressed with Gellek’s generous offering.

Autfreg nodded, his face carefully neutral as he continued. “As I said, I acted against orders. It was, however, my conclusion that the situation at hand lent itself to the slaying of the creature. I feel that Commander Markot’s decision to return to the village for more men would have allowed the creature to slip away and thus continue to endanger the herds and village itself.”

“And you expressed this opinion to Commander Markot?”

“Yes, sir, I did. The commander affirmed his order and rode away towards the village.”

“And then what happened?”

“Sir, the others followed Commander Markot, but I remained behind and then rode to confront the creature.”

Beshera broke in, her voice venomous. “And it did not occur to you that in doing so, you would be putting the lives of the others at risk?”

Curious, Niscene leaned forward. Though his expression was one of control, he did indeed find this meeting most entertaining. Apparently, Beshera forgot what it felt like to be a warrior. It had been too long for all of them.

Autfreg shifted slightly, squaring his shoulders. “Yes ma’am, it did. However, I concluded that the element of surprise would allow me to wound the creature, or perhaps even kill it. In doing so, I could protect the herds and ensure that the others would not face the danger. Had the creature killed me, at least it would have left a blood trail for the others to follow it by.”

Beshera glowered at Autfreg. “You were incorrect. The others under Markot’s command certainly faced danger from the creature, did they not?”

“Yes, ma’am, they did. I went after the creature, and the others returned to help. Unfortunately, Terner was killed, Jerot was knocked from his mount, and two of the Slepna were injured by the creature, fleeing the field before we could kill it and recover them.”
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/AetfregconfrontsChimera.jpg[/image]

The Council leaders glanced at each other, and in the end it was Gelleck who spoke. “Autfreg Skalen, you are suspended from active duty at the present time. We will discuss the matter at length and render a proper judgement. Until then, you are not to join the scouting or eradication teams unless the utmost need arises. This is the will of the Council: will you bow to it?”

Autfreg’s stomach churned, and he felt bile rise in his throat, but in the end he had little choice. He nodded. “Very well. If the Council has no more need of me, I will be on the training fields.” Autfreg turned and left, doing his best to ignore the stares of the others as he walked towards the stables to find Verhere.

* * *

I will not lose you this time, damnit!

Kishnu reared as Isarlath dug her heels into his side. He surged forward and Isarlath nearly left the saddle in the process. “Kishnu, niisy’eth!” Her grip was deathly on the reigns as she pulled back in reprimand. The Slepna snorted, and kept running. The sound of the stallion’s hooves pounded into her head, creating a sort of rhythm. She could see the fabled Slepna. She wanted that horse more than anything.

As if Kishnu heard her thoughts, he kicked into high speed and darted after the one they all called Sin Diob, Evil One. He had evaded capture every time. She would be so close and then he would look at her, as if mocking her, turn up the heat, and race away as if it were nothing to him. She was the best. She knew she was, and one day that horse would be hers.

They all thought she was insane. Sin Diob was huge, even by Slepna standards. The immense power that any of his legs contained would kill her outright if he kicked just right. Her mother hated it when she pursued Sin Diob. Father would shake his head, not wanting to admit he was proud of her. She knew this, but all that would do was spur her on. And right now, that blasted Slepna was in her sight again.

Her own stallion—well, Marcol’s stallion, to be fair—sensed the challenge and began to pull up beside Sin Diob. It's now or never. Standing up in the stirrups, Isarlath launched herself into the air and towards Sin Diob.

The move caught the Slepna by surprise and he stuttered just two steps. But it was all she needed. It snorted and neighed loudly as she landed on his back and locked her arms around the beast’s neck. She held on tightly, even though her body began to slide off. Though she held him, she never had a chance to actually get onto his back.

“I will NOT let you go this time. You had better kill me if you want to be free!”

Sin Diob blinked, as if understanding, and bucked. Her body was thrown into the air and twisted. Fingers still locked, her arms wrenched, causing her to bite her lip hard to avoid uttering a sound. Her back slamming against the stallion’s shoulder, Isarlath was now in a very bad position. In pain, but unwilling to let go, she held on.

A sudden braking, followed by a sharp spin by the stallion, took her by surprise and she was flung far from his body. She cursed and whistled for Kishnu. A loud neigh met her whistle and she stretched her arms, trying to reset sore joints before Kishnu returned. As she watched, Sin Dio actually attacked Kishnu, preventing him from coming to her. The wild stallion huffed at the saddled one and then turned to look at her.

“So, this is it? I touched you! Not only that, mighty one, I held on and rode you!” Isarlath grinned triumphantly. “For the rest of your days, Sin Diob, you will have to remember that I had you!” She reached for a hidden pocket in her chaps and pulled out a thick rope of codlin silk.
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/IsarlathconfrontsSinDiob.jpg[/image]

The rope infuriated Sin Diob and he charged. His attack was faster than she had anticipated, and she barely escaped as she dove to the side. Stopping on a dime, Sin Diob turned and charged again, this time catching her unable to defend or evade. He lowered his head and hit her full on, tossing her into the air.

Wind knocked out of her, Isarlath struggled to find a good position to land in and hit the ground hard. She blinked and tried to catch her breath as she stood shakily. He would not see her in pain, he would not see her weak. “You... you will not win.” She stretched the rope tightly between her hands and looked the horse in the eye.

Sin Diob pawed at the ground, flinging sod and grass everywhere. He snorted, his breath blowing the grass apart as if parting a sea. He charged, lowering his head again. She watched him carefully, noting that his middle legs were cocked, ready. Running straight at him, she jumped at the exact same time as Sin Diob. The Slepna, unable to change his trajectory mid-flight, found her not only back on his neck but trying desperately to tie the rope.

She held on for dear life under his head. The horse, in turn, thrust his head down as he landed, his jaw connecting with the top of her head. She paused briefly and he reared, trying to kick with his front legs. She successfully tied the rope but lost her grip and fell. He slammed his front hooves down and she rolled out of the way a split second before being stomped on.

Frustrated and angry, Sin Diob screamed. Only twice had she heard that sound, both times from an angry horse out of control. The handlers had died and there was no way she would come this far only to lose. She ran at the horse and lunged, tricking him into thinking she was going for the rope. Instead, she slammed her entire body against his side. Surprised, Sin Diob sidestepped, nearly tripping over his own legs.

She grabbed the rope while the horse tried to regain its balance and awkwardly pulled herself up onto his back. Nostrils flaring, he took off like lightning, bucking, neighing and trying desperately to get her off. The other riders watched, most half in prayer, thinking she had done it for sure this time and was going to die.

Sin Diob ran like this for what seemed like forever. Slowly, Isarlath’s grip began to fail. Her body was bruised, her shoulders still smarting from being wrenched earlier, and she was exhausted. Though she held on, she slipped slowly down his side. Sin Diob took the chance and kicked at her with a middle leg. It connected with her upper thigh and she screamed in pain, slipping all the way off his back, and in one last ditch effort, thrust her arm into the rope until it was lodged in the crook of her elbow.

If she were to die, it would be holding on to the devil himself, no matter how fast he ran or how hard he bucked.

Eventually, Sin Diob slowed until he was at a walk. Still looped into the rope, Isarlath hung on with what little she had left. Suddenly, without warning, Sin Diob stopped and laid down, his breath laboured. Through barely opened eyes, she looked into the beast’s own. It was a beginning and his eyes conveyed that.

Taking a deep breath, Isarlath maneuvered herself until she was in position to ride him. He rose and stood still as she sat up. He bucked once, jostling her, and she held on. With just the rope in her hands, she rode him bareback home.

* * *

Autfreg trotted Verhere back to the end of the training field, coaxing the Slepna around with the simple pressure of his knees. He stared down the field at the target, a slender brass ring, one of many, hanging from the branches of one of the few trees in the area. Autfreg flexed his arm slightly, resettling his shield, his other hand shaking his lance slightly, rising and couching it. He leaned forward and Verhere stepped forward, walking, then speeding up to a trot, a canter, and then a full-on gallop.

Clods of grass and sod ripped up from the earth beneath the Slepna’s iron-shod hooves as the pair thundered down the field at the target. Autfreg shifted his shield up slightly, his face covered by it but for his eyes. The lance in his hand moved slightly, adjusting his aim. Ten yards away the tree loomed, then five, then three, and then...
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/AutfregPracticing.jpg[/image]

There was a sharp ringing of metal on metal, a scraping, and then a sharp snap as the thin line that held the ring to the tree branch snapped. Autfreg cantered Verhere around and back to the tree, the brass ring jingling around the practice lance’s shaft along with a dozen other rings of various sizes and metals. He sat silently on Verhere’s back, staring at the rings for a long moment. The Slepna snorted and tossed his head, causing Autfreg to smile slightly. “Aye, again.” The pair turned and began walking back to the end of the training field again.

* * *

Isarlath struggled to keep her eyes open as she swayed back and forth on Sin Diob’s back. The pain was intense, the dull throbbing in her thigh hurt like hell, and she could see the swelling through her pants. She came within sight of the settlement, the other hunters flanking her, but slightly behind. Sin Diob had not appreciated anyone else anywhere near the lead.

They had three Slepna from the fields in tow, one of which was a juvenile, as well as Sin Diob. Isarlath led the begrudged Slepna towards the enclosures. Sin Diob stopped before the gates, nostrils wide, taking in the scents. He reared, causing Isarlath to fall prostrate on his back. The others moved to her, but Sin Diob grunted and pawed at them, warning them to stay away.

She shook her head, pushing up. “Don’t. I... I have to do this on my own.”

Mintak frowned. “You are obviously weakened. The moment you get off, he will kill you!”

“No... no he won’t.” She sighed, a tear falling down her cheek. The pain was nearly overwhelming, but she couldn’t succumb to it. She had to make it to the gate.

Swallowing, she slid off his back, the rope still firmly held in her hand. Sin Diob looked back at her, his eyes watching for any sign of weakness. She stood, resolute, and stared back.

“Isarlath?” Mintak looked at her concerned.

“I can’t move just yet. It hurts like hell. I mean the lowest of lower hells, hell.” She didn’t dare grimace while the Slepna watched her. “My leg feels like I am being repeatedly stabbed, burned and ripped... all at the same time.”

* * *

Autfreg slowed Verhere, frowning slightly as he noticed the group near the gate to the enclosures. The tamers had been out today, searching for Slepna to replace those lost to the chimera, no doubt. His eyes narrowed fractionally, recognizing Isarlath—Niscene’s granddaughter—among them. The pair moved towards the group at a slow walk, and Autfreg stared, his eyes widening, as he glanced between her and the Slepna she was leading. It was, well, it could only be, Sin Diob. No other Slepna was close to that size. Isarlath looked terrible. Autfreg’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. He supposed that going after the devil Slepna would do that to a person.

“Isarlath, for the love of the gods, let me do something!” Cordelia called from the other side.

“No!” Isarlath tightened her grip on the rope. “Gods, Cordelia. I show one stupid weakness and all this will be for naught. I didn’t sustain all these injuries to have one of you screw it up!”

“But...” both Cordelia and Mintak objected.

Autfreg grinned, now in hearing range of the dispute between the tamers. Verhere halted without prompting from his rider. Say what you would about Isarlath, the lady had guts.

Even though it hurt, she lifted an arm and made a gesture to shut up. Pain shot through her, but she gritted her teeth and pulled on the rope. “We walk, you monster. We walk and you will like it.”
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/triumphantIsarlath.jpg[/image]

By this time a small crowd had gathered to watch. She took a step and blanched, but she continued, step by step, to walk to the gate. Sin Diob pulled back in objection and Isarlath growled, pulling the rope roughly. The Slepna grunted and snorted, but complied. Battered, bruised and most likely broken, Isarlath walked. It was slow, but a part of her enjoyed it.

Verhere and Autfreg started forward at a slow walk, trailing behind Isarlath and Sin Diob and watching the slow progress to the stables. Autfreg rubbed Verhere’s neck gently, eliciting a wicker of appreciation from the Slepna. “Credit to her, I suppose, eh old friend?” Verhere snorted softly in apparent answer, but kept walking.

Screw all of you, damn it. My axe belongs in a few places you don’t want it. She nodded graciously, despite her thoughts, and led Sin Diob through the gate and to a stall. She leaned against him, both for support and to show him where to back into the stall. He looked at her, eyes still wild, and nipped her. Locking the stall gate, she stepped back and grinned. “I have you. They all thought I was insane, but I have you.”

Autfreg dismounted, leaving the reins looped around the horn of his saddle. He stood in the doorway of the stable with Verhere, watching silently.

She reached over into a bin and pulled out a sugar cube and a bag of oats. She poured the oats into his trough and opened her hand to give him the treat. He snuffled her palm and in one move, had her entire hand in his mouth, teeth resting on her wrist. His reminder that he had her.

She turned her wrist, dropping the treat on his tongue and withdrew her hand. Isarlath looked into his eyes, and shook her head. “You are no longer Sin Diob. You are SinMi. MY evil.” She backed away, their eyes still connected. She bowed, then turned to walk away. She looked up and saw Autfreg. Once she left the sight of SinMi, she began to collapse.

Autfreg stepped forward, catching Isarlath before she could fall to the ground. He glanced over her quickly. Verhere remained near the door, but Autfreg ignored the Slepna for now. One of the grooms would see to him, and Isarlath needed the help at the moment. “Well, I am impressed, daughter of the smiths, but he won’t be your evil very long if you don’t see a healer for that leg. At least. Looks like a bone bruise. I don’t think you’ll be riding much for the next few months.”

“Oh my gods, it hurts like hell. But I couldn’t admit it. Not in front of him. A wild Slepna knows.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. “I hope that a bone bruise is all it is... and I can’t stay off him. Not now...”

Autfreg shifted slowly, stooping and lifting Isarlath off the ground, one arm under her knees, and the other under her arms. “You get back on him like this and he will kill you. That’s all there is to it.”

Isarlath didn't object to Autfreg lifting her, as it relieved some of her pain. “You get the horses after I deal with them. You already have them broken. If I don’t get on him, I will be weak and he will kill me. Especially him. I am not losing him, Autfreg.” She laid her head back, tears finally falling. “We brought in four. One a juvenile. Exactly what we needed to replace those lost to the chimera. Gods, I need something to drink.”

“With respect, Isarlath, Verhere was broken when I got him, but I’m the one who put him back together into something that worked.” He carried her back into the settlement, heading for where the healers had their lodges. His voice was distant as he continued. “The chimera is dead, but we lost two Slepna today. And I could use a drink.”

“Wait... you insult my inability to turn what I tame into something workable, even after the time I spend with them, and follow it up with admitting that you lost two more?” Her voice rose slightly, causing her to flinch in pain.

“I did not lose anything, daughter of the smiths. The only Slepna I am responsible for is Verhere, unless I am on herd guard, and I was not.” Autfreg’s voice was brittle. “Terner is dead, and you’ll get to see Jerot once we reach the healers. If you want to ask someone, I suggest you talk to him, or perhaps you can speak with Terner’s wife.”

Isarlath squirmed, trying to get free. “If this is how you are going to be, then I will walk by myself to the healer. Don’t you DARE throw into my face that we lost someone. Don’t even go there, Autfreg. I would ask how the hell they died and the horses were lost, but I am not sure I am ready to stomach it. You still haven’t retracted your statement of insult towards my own skills. I bust my ass for you and the hunters. I bust it literally, and figuratively, and still manage to pull hunting duty like the other ‘warriors’.”

Autfreg’s eyes went blank, his gaze flinty as he held onto Isarlath, though the idea of simply dropping her was both appealing and convenient. He didn't acknowledge the first half of her objection. “Look me in the eye, Isarlath. Look me in the eye and tell me that you or anyone in this clan has done a better job training their mount. You think I’m insulting you? Hardly. I know what you do for the clan. But since you seem inclined to fight today, you think whatever you want to.”

Her eyes smoldered. “Yes, yes, taunt me, Autfreg. Taunt me with your ability to have a mount of your own to train. I hope you feel better now.” She looked away.

“Tamers do not have mounts for a reason, Isarlath. You know that as well as I do. Tell me something, what will Gellek say when he hears about your evil?”

“Gellek can kiss my bruised and broken ass.” Her eyes burned suddenly with a passion rarely seen. “No one else will be able to ride that Slepna. No one. A stallion like him comes around few and far between. And only the one that breaks him will ever be able to ride him, if he so deems it. He’s mine, and I will fight Gellek tooth and nail.”

“Verhere is all I need. You’re welcome to the creature. Gellek and the Council will have the final say, though.” Autfreg navigated his way through the outbuildings surrounding the settlement, heading for the healers’ quarters.

She looked away again, her voice quiet. “Then, I will leave.”

“You have a family here.”

“They don’t understand, Autfreg. They just don’t. If I had one of my own, one that is mine, it would be easier to do what they want me to do. But no one will listen.” She closed her eyes. “And then, perhaps, all of ‘your’ people will finally give me some respect and leave me alone.”

Autfreg turned slightly, shouldering the door to the healers’ lodge open. He moved inside, setting Isarlath down on an open cot gently. His voice was quiet, devoid of emotion. “I don’t have people, not anymore.” He straightened and turned to leave.

She opened her mouth to retort, but decided against it. Ikarna emerged and exhaled, exasperated. “Good lords, you look like you were strung through the bramble and trampled by a fleet.”

“Don’t start with me, mother.”

* * *

Jeanne watched carefully, her eyes catching every detail. She was on scout patrol, looking for anything, either helpful or alarming. Though she hadn’t slept in two days, she was alert. Her Slepna bristled at a shuffling up ahead. She patted its wide neck and urged it forward silently. If it was a monster, it had better say its prayers.




Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of the Rift (8/31/2011 20:34:40)

Cephalotus
Writer(s): Ultrapowerpie, Razen, and Mordred
Artist(s): glaisaurus_x with some art by Razen

The Fell Copse

The first rays of light slowly shone through the windows, beaming into the Swamp-side town which held the life of one member of a banned tradition. Aurinelle had awoken abruptly, the light gleaming right through her window and to where she rested. She had gotten up and out of her wood and wool bed, sleep still woven over her eyes. She looked around her small, one-room cabin lazily, the sight causing her eyes even more pain than the light had. She looked at the stove and cupboards in one corner with disgust. She turned her head, hardly glancing at the unornamented floorboards. Her eyes stopped as she came upon the window, which was more of a painting for her in this drab life. The swamp was quite in sight from her window; she lived on the side of town facing towards it. She looked away and strode over to the simple wardrobe in the corner closest to her bed and selected her clothes for the day. After she dressed herself, she looked at the base of the windowsill to check on the plant she was told to keep there.

It had bloomed, the cyan-petaled flower looking so alien next to the brown of the lumber house, and the dark, murky swamp background seen behind it. But, she knew what it meant that it had bloomed... Cy’Cad had called for a meeting - an urgent one too. She opened the rotting door and quickly went for the forest, telling a townswoman out picking flowers into her woven basket that she needed to collect some wild berries, which grew deeper in the swamp a ways away.

She went quickly around the village square and on the quickest road to the Cephalotus' copse. Townspeople gave her a few odd looks. Very rarely was anyone in the town ever moving so quickly. Life was incredibly sleepy in the small town; nothing special ever happened. Until today. Unfortunately, it had rained heavily last night, so the dirt roads were now thick mud. She turned off into the swamp, away from the town right at the town hall, which was uniquely placed at the edge of town instead of in the middle (the town planners hadn’t been incredibly bright). She ran straight into the slosh of the swamp, brushing aside low-lying plants as she did, intent on reaching the copse that was far from the rest of the forest.

A quick turn around a tree and she saw the patch of grass and Cephalotus Pitcher Plants in the middle of a grouping of trees; this was the copse for sure. She concentrated on what magic she knew and the grass parted for her, allowing her into the tunnel where the others waited below. She gulped at the thought of descending down the soil-laden maw once again. She shook away her brief moment of hesitation and began her descent down into the tunnel. Over her head, the soil and grass closed up the entrance once more, hiding all evidence that it had existed. The only light now was a faint glow from the roots of the trees, which had bacteria and fungi that glowed in the dark living symbiotically with them. Damn, I bet I’m late, she thought to herself.

She was correct; Cy’Cad, Cid, Mordred, and Spirit were all awaiting her arrival to the meeting. They were in a large burrow in the ground, surrounded by the roots of the trees they had developed a mastery over. Each member was seated in a chair of some sort: Cy’Cad in a finely-crafted ornate chair of oak, polished to a shine and Cid in a rotten tree stump with various carnivorous plants such as pitcher plants and Venus fly traps growing from it (the tunnels were largely insect free thanks to Cid). Mordred was seated in a chair that looked like a amalgamation of thorny green vines (it was amazing that he didn’t prick himself in the half-light the glow offered). Cy’Cad was the one closest to the Grotto’s entrance, easily noticeable due to his headdress and it’s bright colors much akin to a peacocks’ feathers in an array that looked quite bizarre as it looked like colors sweeping in a whirlpool into the leaves of which made it. The granite rock of the underground domain lie in contrast to the natural colors of the Clan members and their decorations, such as vibrant flowers of varying colors, which were added to the tunnel to make it more lively.

“Ah, Aurinelle, you saw the signal in time. Good, good. Now, I have some... disturbing news. As we speak, a dire threat is approaching the nearby town.”

“What about it?” Cid said nonchalantly. “The salad eaters can handle whatever the hell it is.”

“That is not possible, Cid.” Mordred said begrudgingly. He was seated in a chair made of thorny roots and vines, and leaned over, pressing his face against his staff with a grim look on his pale face. “A creature approaches the village. A massive creature, described to be able to crush the whole town under a single foot.”

“Really?” Cid mused, suddenly leaning forward in keen interest. “So, it will kill them all then?” Saying this, he began to lovingly caress the red-tailed hawk, Vedrfolnir. “That means food for my precious plants and friends...”

“Quiet, Cid. This is no time for your hatred,” Cy’Cad said sternly and calmly as ever. Hearing this, Cid slumped back in his chair carved out of a rotten tree-stump, disappointed.

“Now, you were saying? Before Cid intruded into this urgent discussion," Aurinelle spoke impatiently and brashly.

Mordred took this notice to retort, “Yes, as I was saying before Cid interrupted... The Swamp-side town is in danger from a leviathan, a behemoth if you will. Whilst I’m not one for casually wishing to aid people such as them, they’re dead without it.”

“We shall assist those in dire need and those who help in the balance, but let us not tie ourselves into chains before we make promises,” Cy’Cad spoke calmly and then continued, “Mordred and I have spoken to the trees, to their roots, to the rocks, the soil, and yet none have known so far. Even the giant sequoia of this forest above us knew not of their origins.” One could easily see Cy’Cad was truly worried about the situation at the least, if not frightened immensely. His casually calm demeanor almost seemed desolate in the tone of his latter sentence.

It stayed quiet for a moment. They each collected from Cy’Cad’s tone how it stressed him and began to truly understand how dire it must be. They didn’t divert their attention to anything else, but merely stayed quiet, staring at their focus. Mordred took the opportunity to break the silence, as he figured out something that could possibly be their only hope.

“If none of the plants here know, then we must go to the places where the older ones lie, of course,” said Mordred. “It’s not as though we have another option; balance to the order of the biosphere is more important than merely us.”

“So, are we all fine with going to the Fell Copse then? I will not allow us to go without a consultation of the life around us,” Cy’Cad replied to Mordred in a definite tone. After saying that, Cy’Cad climbed up the tunnel’s mouth, pulled off the grass and cephalotus' that covered the entrance and walked as calmly as he could to the flowerless Magnolia Tree upon which he first talked within the Copse.

The Magnolia Tree recognized Cy’Cad and told him what he suggested for the situation: “Ah, my friend, Cy’Cad, what is it that you require of me? Consultation? If you’re asking about the new ‘invasion’ then realize that my roots have actually found the end of the Cephalotus Grotto to be far from where you think it is. A thin line of stone blocks the rest of the cavern from you, it was to prevent floods in the upper part before...”

“So, how far does the grotto go then?” Cy’Cad queried. Quite surprised by the fact that someone was clever enough to do all of this: to keep it safe from natural disaster. Surely the person who devised it all was adamant about keeping the place as a safe haven from any troubles of the world around, above, and below.

The Tree responded much faster than expected, “Oh, you’d be very surprised how close it will get you to the source of these intrusions into Senmori Gheva. The Cavern goes on for miles upon miles, twisting and turning, barely escaping the complete grasp of the oceans. But, the other trees’ roots tell me that it is not completely danger-free.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Cy’Cad said. “But first, before we go to the Fell Copse through these tunnels, we must deliberate on whether we will save the town from the wrath of this behemoth.”



“I say nay.” Cid said coolly, adjusting his black gloves. “DEATH TO THE SALAD EATERS!!!”

“I would rather leave them to die,” Mordred began, his voice empty of sympathy. “But if the clan decides to save the fools...”

Aurinelle shuffled her feet and looked at them awkwardly. “We-ell, I don’t like the looks they give me...” she said hesitantly. “But leaving them to die would be... wrong.”

“I fully stand by her decision.” Spirit, seen in a small, humanoid form made of plants hovering around Aurinelle’s side, said with conviction. “But my opinion means nothing, as I am not one of you. Cy’Cad?” Saying this, he raised his leafy eyebrow questioningly.

Cy’Cad knew as the leader of the clan, he was forced to make the decision. He picked up a lone flower and asked, “What do you believe, little flower?”

“How much have they wronged these woods? Have they burned them down like many others would’ve? Have they cut down the forests and abused their resources for their own gain?” the flower asked rhetorically.

“No,” Cy’Cad answered the already known answer.

“Then why let them die when they have not destroyed or abused the plant-life?” The flower asked, demeaning the Cephalotus members in the process.

“The life around us has spoken; the town hasn’t shown an abuse or hatred of Nature, so why let them die? So, we’re going to save them, because we are STILL humane,” Cy’Cad spoke once again, in his calm tone.

He put the flower once again into the earth. Carefully digging a hole into the soil for it to remain in. Then trying as delicately as possible to put it into the hole without harming the flower, its stem or its roots. He then continued by thanking it, “There you go, little flower. Thank you for your assistance in the manner; pointless deaths would’ve happened had you not done so. But I must return you to the earth. I’m sorry for pulling you from it to begin with. I needed the opinion of nature itself.”

“It has been decided.” Cy’Cad said grimly. Behind him, the others listened intently, curious as to what was decided. “We will save the town...” Hearing this, Cid immediately grew dark and angry, and put on a haughty attitude. He refused to speak, for he knew his anger would get the best of him. He would not oppose the clan’s decision, but he wouldn’t like saving the salad eaters either.

“We will be unable to simply kill this creature like some stupid beast.” Mordred began to explain. “It is far too large to merely strangle to death like a rabid bear. We must ambush it. So, here’s what we will do...”

The group huddled closer, listening intently to their instructions (Cid a tad disinterested, though) and brightened at the deception they would play on the creature with their ploy...



The biosphere silently cried out as a terrible beast lumbered through the great marsh trees as if they were blades of grass, carelessly crushing all life in its path. It had come through the Rift not too long ago, and began to wreak havoc on the lands of Senmori Gheva yet untouched by beasts never before seen by these people. It would occasionally stop to mark its territory, and the volatile liquids would burn through everything it touched. It cared not for what it destroyed, but reveled in the destruction it caused. Life around it vehemently despised the creature's presence, just as it despised the life around it. The acid in its very blood was the bane of plant-life everywhere, and the beast would exact its vindictive hatred upon these thriving lands. With its blackened teeth, lifeless eyes, balefully green scales, and deathly acidic breath, it was a true sight to behold as it stood proudly in its newly conquered lands. It’s height challenged the heavens, and its ferocity likened to that of the fury of Mother Nature itself.

A scent caught it’s attention, and it turned its great head lazily as a king surveying his subjects would. Far off in the distance, a good many miles away, it could see a hub of life: a small town of wood and humans. Meat. Food. Roaring hungrily, it spread its titanic wings, and some trees that survived that day say that the entire sky was blotted out by the terrible beast’s massive span. It took flight, buffeting all the trees within a large radius with a tempest, uprooting all but the strongest of them. It flew onwards to the small town, dripping acid from its skin onto the marsh life below, forever polluting it. At this rate, it would arrive within an hour.



Cy’Cad exclaimed, “I feel... something unrested in the distance... it is as though something destroyed next to all the life with such ease, as though mocking Nature itself... The creature nears, our time is cut short. We must go now!” They all got up and climbed the walls out of the Grotto, heading for the heavily-endangered Swamp-Side town. The creature looked to be only a blot in the sky from here, but they knew it was far larger than what they saw.

They rushed as fast as they could, without keeping Cy’Cad left behind, their goal to get on the road quickly so they could get to town as soon as possible. The closer they got, the closer the blot in the sky appeared, beginning to get enough detail to become noticeable. Its head was completely covered with large horns, each going off in its own direction, as though each had a mind of its own. Its wings looked much akin to those of a Cytila.

Aurinelle exclaimed, while continuing to run, “We have to move faster, Cy’Cad! We’re going to fall behind the creature at this pace!”

Cy’Cad did not speak in response because they needed to get to the town before the creature, not argue and bicker about how Cy’Cad’s age had decreased his speed and stamina. He needed all his breath to try and keep up with the others.

The town was now completely visible. Cid quickly spoke, “I’ll lead the beast away from the town! I don’t have the breath to explain, you’ll just have to watch and follow on cue.”

The others pondered briefly on what he had meant, but still maintained their focus on getting to the town before the horned alien reached the defenseless town. The beast was so near that the light was disappearing behind them. It wasn’t all too far away already. They gave a final sprint to give them time to catch their breath before combating the winged behemoth approaching fast. They turned around to see the final breaks of light in front of the village. It was so close, more details of it revealed themselves.

Off to the side, Cid called upon the woodland creatures to await his order and listen to it strictly. The dragon’s deathly, pale green, scaly skin came into view. None could see the beast’s eyes, lying perfectly camouflaged in the distilled darkness before it. However, everyone could see the darkness nearing them was in the shape of wings and the light was retreating fast. And then, as their eyes had adjusted to the lack of sunlight, they silently gasped in horror.

Flying above them was a massive creature, terrible in nature. Its skin oozed a volatile green liquid that burned to the touch. Around its great snout of a face was a mane of black hairs and twisted horns of various shapes and sizes. From its neck down to its tail was a ridge of black horns, each tipped with more of the acidic ooze. At the base of the tail was a feathery arrowhead, constantly swishing to and fro, knocking down anything unfortunate enough to be in its path. Tucked against its lithe body were powerful forearms, tipped with a gnarled paw with three fingers, each tipped with a talon of ebony. Its hind legs hung in the air, also sporting three talons; two facing frontwards, the third backwards. Before them was an Acid Wyrm, one of the largest and most virulent of all acid dragons to ever live on any world. And it had found itself in a new world; one ready to meet a cruel fate at its breath.

Cid now gave his command to the animals: they were to lead the titanic dragon to an ambush in hopes that it would succeed. Cid had to make sure to get its attention firstly though and to do so, he waved his arms, stretching them out as much as possible without damaging them, a perfect beacon. He then continued waving his arms as he ran with the woodland animals into the woods, in hopes that it’d detract the behemoth from the town.

The trees fell and broke as the scaled beast flew towards Cid and the animals surrounding him, hungering for immediate flesh to wrap its terrible maws around. Cid, seeing he had successfully grabbed its attention, leaped onto the wolf pack leader, and set them off, away from the town and deeper into the marshy terrain.

The woods darkened not only from the Wyrm cutting off the majority of light streaming from above it, but as well by the nearing dusk. Fortunately, at this time, the entire town would be out in the life-giving swamp, checking on their crops before the night fully hit. So, they were oblivious to the terrifying creature that sought to devour them as snacks. They were either used to the shade of the canopy or wrote off the darkness as a large cloud.

Cid noticed that he was out far enough from where the villagers were to attempt his idea. He stopped suddenly and turned to look at the creature in its gaping black marbles of eyes. Ah, so the supper gives up the chase, it thought to itself smugly as it alighted upon the ground, shaking the earth with its great weight. Then, there was a flash of red and feathers, and then half the world was black to it. Another flash, and now, everything was darkened. The wyrm threw back its head and let out a vicious shriek of anger and pain, not knowing that this had been planned. Once it dealt with the pain and lack of vision, it snaked out its forked tongue, and in a combination of its tongue and powerful nose, it attempted to smell its prey. It was to no avail, for Cid had planted aromatic carnivorous plants that now had an enhanced scent, masking all other smells to it. It was completely shut off from the outside world.

“Now, everyone!” the beast heard from somewhere to its left, and suddenly, its legs and forearms were being clawed at by something. It could not see, and had no idea that the plant life around it had suddenly come to life, almost as if it was on its own. Cy’Cad, Mordred, Aurinelle, and Spirit each contributed some of their power, and there were now about twenty different trees animated around the creature, their branches and leaves and roots given sudden animation as they wrapped around the wyrm, trying to bring it down and retain it. As they clawed at its acid-covered scales, they enlarged with the help of the Cephalotus clan members, and a few roots (which were already quite sizable due to how old the trees were) were able to reach up and attempt to muzzle the ferocious beast.

The wyrm flew into a frenzy. It snarled and breathed upon everything wildly, straining against its bonds blindly. Its limbs struggled, but to no avail: the roots and branches had already gained a firm hold on it, preventing it from breaking free. However, its neck and mouth were free yet, and as it breathed deadly acid over everything, the roots reaching up to muzzle it wilted away in an instant, unable to take the acidic liquid. Even as the clan members began to animate new trees, the bonds upon the dragons legs had weakened; the acid upon the wyrm’s skin was slowly eating away at the organic materials. “For Pete’s sake, guys, can’t you hold this damned thing down?!” Cid cried out angrily, still fuming that he had to save anybody. He continued to curse as he had to watch on, for his specialty with plants were the carnivorous kind; he couldn’t do anything with regular plant-life. As the bonds finally grew weak enough, it broke free from them, stumbling in an attempt to get its dinner.

However, the wyrm quickly realized as it felt more roots scrabbling over its skin that it had lost this bout; it turned away, aiming to go back to the lands it was familiar with to lick its wounds and return another day. Its eyes might grow back with its natural healing. It stumbled awkwardly, afraid to fly off and end up crashing painfully back into the ground due to its inability to see. “No, no, no no, no! Don’t let it get away!” Mordred cried out from somewhere amid the terrain that hadn’t been devastated by the creature.

“I’m on it!” Cid cried out, reaching out with his mind to the pitcher plants further ahead the dragon. They then rose up above the canopy; numbering about five in total. They lowered their pitcher’s ends open and facing towards the dragon, oblivious to what was going on. The bottom of each tube began to seize up awkwardly, and then, a strange liquid was flying through the air right at the terrible beast. With loud plops, the liquid splattered over the creature’s skin, in Cid’s attempt to deter it. It was to no avail; the digestive juices of the plants couldn’t harm the dragon, which was constantly covered in similarly volatile liquids.

“Cid, you must hold it there!” Cy’Cad called out as he rode upon a fast, slim Reptilian beast.

“I’ll try my best.” Cid said begrudgingly, gritting his teeth in distaste. He refocused his efforts and the carnivorous plants, still enlarged, began to grasp onto the creature, holding it down just as the others had tried to do. Fortunately, they would last longer, as their digestive acids had provided them resistance to the creature’s own liquids.

“Of what prey are you?!” the wrym snarled in its own draconic tongue, which the Cephalotus clan didn’t understand. “How can any prey ever hope to slay me! Restraining me is impossible, so how do you hold me here?!” Never before had the acid wyrm felt such anger, and more importantly, it felt a new feeling, one of fear. Its life was in jeopardy for the first time in its long life, and it was because of pathetic humanoids that it was so greatly injured in body and pride.

Before the creature could attempt to organize its thoughts for a means of escape, Spirit, now in a body built out of a few trees and standing twenty feet tall, leaped up onto the creatures haunches, hoisting himself up onto its back, and scaling his way up its spiny ridges all the way up to its head. He then brought down his club-like arms in a powerful blow between the gored eye-sockets, shaking the wyrm’s thoughts around in its head. He pounded and pounded upon it, not caring for the acid eating away at his body until the last second, when he was forced to leap off or be forced to rebuild a new body, which would take a great deal of time.

By this time, Cy’Cad, Aurinelle, and Mordred had arrived on the scene. The beast was beginning to break its bonds, stumbling and falling to the ground as it did so. “You desecrate our forest,” Cy’Cad said with a hint of anger in his calm voice, ”You try to destroy this innocent town, eat these creatures for your food, and then run off without so much as a care for this world. You. Die. Now.”

As this was said, the three druids charged up together, and in a great show of force, they called up the roots of several trees into a great, gnarled spike right under the creatures jaw. As it burst out of the ground, the creature broke free of the plant’s vines, and stumbled down, with its head landing right on top of the spike, There was a crunch as the combined momentum of the objects and weight of the creature’s head came together into one final act of pain. Acidic blood spurted as the spike broke through flesh and bone and punctured a vulnerable brain. The wyrm seized up and began to twitch uncontrollably. It’s tongue lolled out as much as it could while being impaled. The creature let out a guttural, stuttering growl and heaved a few times before coming to a stop. The terrible wyrm had fallen, as had the night.




Eukara Vox -> RE: Book of the Rift (8/31/2011 20:37:43)

The Order of the Blood Moon
Writer(s): shadowknight44; Spiker!
Artist(s): Akiyama25

Godspeed My Friends


Extreme stared at the ongoing rain, trying to remember what real sunshine actually looked like. It had seemed like a lifetime since he had felt the calming warmth of the sun. This half-elf was not sure if he would ever see it again. Extreme felt for the deadly knife which he hid under his right sleeve.
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/shadowknight1.jpg[/image]

It was a reminder: a reminder of his, and many other's, mission – to seal the rift.


In the distance stood a city with what looked like high walls, battered and destroyed by the continuing war. It was the centre of operations for this branch of resistance against the creatures of the rift. Currently, it had no name. Or if it did, it was long forgotten by now. Although it looked strongly fortified, the building in the mountains in which Extreme and a few members of the Order called home was vital to the city’s survival, as it served as an outpost, sending out warnings about things that might put the city at threat.

Extreme was a part of a mysterious order of people. It was called ‘The Order of the Blood Moon’. Their practices were of the arts of stealth. Here, Extreme was able to hone his skills - the skills in which his particular order of Elves were known for.

“This forsaken rain never seems to stop,” commented a seemingly distant voice. “Don’t even know how that water seems to get up there so fast.”

Extreme turned around. It was Aki, another member of The Order of the Blood Moon. He was no longer affected by Extreme’s gaze. Aki had gotten used to being stared at by those silvery-black eyes.

“Yeah, well, welcome to the beginning of the end,” spoke Samuel Pikerson, emerging from behind the two friends, trying not to show any fear in his voice.
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/shadowknight2.jpg[/image]


“Look who’s looking optimistic today,” laughed Extreme.

“Who can be positive with what’s going on now?” rhetorically asked Aki, hoping to change the mood.

“Obviously Sam is the man for the job,” sarcastically mocked Extreme.

“Hey! I’m only pointing out the obvious, you know!” flared Samuel in return.

“Thanks for that, Mr Obvious,” replied Extreme.

Samuel gritted his teeth; he was not going to win this one.

“You know…” Extreme’s voice trailed off in Samuel’s head.

The rift…key…thanks, Mr Obvious…end of the world…creatures…Extreme…at a time like this-…

“…and that is why we don’t need pessimistic statements like yours right now.” ended Extreme. Samuel snapped back into the real world, confused.

“Are you even listening to me?” asked Extreme, seeming annoyed.

“It’s those voices…” said Samuel before collapsing.

“…he’s been complaining about those voices in his head for awhile now,” was the first thing Samuel heard.

“Must be that rift; it’s messing with his mind,” said another voice.

“They’re getting worse and more frequent too,” interrupted Samuel.

“Something’s up, I reckon,” suggested Aki

“You don’t say? I’m going to die in agony before this ever-lasting war ends.” responded Samuel.

“Hell, I am tired of this war,” reflected Aki out loud. “Well, maybe the killing part was pretty good.”

“We’ve fought for the Order against the rift for many years,” began Extreme. “We won’t give up now, or ever.”



As always, it was raining. The same dark, intimidating darkness there had been for a long time. Extreme, Aki and Samuel had set out to visit the city. Along the path, Extreme could see what used to be trees. He tried to imagine what this path once used to look like, but the memory was murky. With this much water, the vegetation in the area had simply given up hope on living. All that was left was a hollow trunk sticking out of the ground meaninglessly.

Today, the rain was significantly heavier than the other days. Was this, perhaps, a sign? Possibly a warning that signified something was coming? Of course, that thought didn’t pop into anyone’s head. All that was inside their heads at this moment was getting to the city in one piece, and out of this heartless, god-forsaken weather. However, life wasn’t all that simple anymore. They couldn’t just leave their outlook, arrive at the city, go in and have a mug of mead. Since the last time a vicious plague of beasts from the rift had swarmed the city base, everyone has been as alert as ever...

“Do you guys hear that sound?” asked Extreme.

“I’m not the one with freakish elven hearing,” joked Aki.

Suddenly, out of the bushes jumped a voluminous man, who tackled Samuel down.

“SAMUEL!” boomed this large mans voice. “You must get back to the Order now, something important is happening!”
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/shadowknight3.jpg[/image]


“Thorlief, what is it?” demanded Extreme, still partly terrified at the sight of the large man tackling Samuel.

“I cannot tell you, only General Zemerak can.”

“You weren’t told?” Aki asked.

“No,” answered Thorlief with a groan as he got off of Samuel.

“It seems you knocked Sam out cold,” observed Extreme.

“Seems so, my brethren,” replied Thorlief, laughing briefly before remembering the seriousness of the situation at hand.

Thorlief reached down and grabbed Samuel, who he then threw over his shoulder like a rag doll.

“Wasn’t there something important, Thorlief?” reminded Aki.

Thorlief gave a discerning grunt at Aki, whom he wasn’t all that fond of.

“Let us go now, or Zemerak shall fry my hindquarters and cook them into a stew for the people in our headquarters,” worried Thorlief.

The other three immediately attempted to wipe the image of people eating a rather disturbing part of Thorlief in a stew.

The four set off immediately to the Order’s base, in the midst of the city.

Samuel was nervous; this was the first time he had faced the Order’s court before.

“General Zemerak,” said Samuel stiffly, saluting.

“Samuel. Good, you can join us,” replied Zemerak. “Hopefully Thorlief didn’t cause you too much trouble?”

“Oh, he was no trouble at all sir,” interrupted Extreme casually, walking down the hallway.

“Ah, good of you to join us, Colonel,” welcomed Zemerak “I was planning to talk to Samuel personally, but I guess you can listen in.”

Extreme nodded slightly in acknowledgment. For the first time today, Samuel noticed the many eyes watching him from the Court of Order stands. Though menacing, he realised many of them. There was Valour, a fellow special forces officer working with Extreme, and of course, Thorlief, sitting a bit closer to the entrance, who winked at him.
[image]http://i190.photobucket.com/albums/z157/Eukara_photo/Rift%20Illustrations/shadowknight4.jpg[/image]


“Lieutenant Samuel Pikerson, you have been chosen to rendezvous with a messenger, who has refused to reveal themself. You will meet them outside the south-east castle walls, near the old river. This is high priority, as they have information on the next wave of creatures from the rift. Hurry, we have been informed that we don’t have much time,” informed Zemerak.

“Immediately,” responded Samuel.

“Before Christmas, Sam,” advised Extreme, who was now sitting in the stands of the Court, next to Valour.

Wow he got there quick,” thought Samuel, before running off.

“Godspeed Lieutenant,” called out Zemerak.

Then, suddenly, warning alarms sounded loudly around the city, flaring discussion among the Court. Samuel paused at the door, and looked back.

“Go, go, go!” yelled Zemerak across the hall.




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